


My problem

by ko_writes



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drabble Collection, Eating Disorders, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 21:05:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11044320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ko_writes/pseuds/ko_writes
Summary: He doesn't really talk about it. They have better things to do than listen to his problems, after all...





	1. Blood red

People don't seem to think of him as someone with issues; not major ones at least. He's loud, he's happy, he makes those awful little jokes his terrible sense of humour struggles to fashion. He's alright.  _Maybe_ , he works too hard.  _Sometimes_ , he stays in his room for too long - studying, of course - and misses a meal or two.  _Occasionally_ , he gets dizzy in gym class. It's nothing to worry about, though. So what if he doesn't like taking off his shirt without his sarashi around his waist? He's a  _prude_.

It was fine, because it was only  _sometimes_ , it wasn't anything to do with the others. That meant that he was perfectly alright, didn't it?

No. Not really. 

He thinks about that as he sits on the roof, red eyes dull as he leaned on the chain-link fence that separated him from a fatal fall...

He sometimes thinks about what it would be like to just climb over the fence, unobstructed breeze running through his short hair as he felt the adrenaline of  _liberation_. It would be unrestricted, something being set free in his chest as the wind whips faster around him, reaching terminal velocity just as he'd studied in physics. He'd like to fall at night, when the sky is filled with stars burnt out long ago. He'd fall facing the sky, he decides; one last look at the  _beauty_  in the world before his end.

It would be a beautiful end to  _so much ugliness_. It would be an end to bloodied bathrooms and sides, to the hunger pangs and knife-like collar bones, to the little pills in an orange bottle. It would just stop, and be nothing but tranquil emptiness. 

Anything is better than this.

* * *

 

"Hey, where'd ya slip off to?"

He ignores the question from his rival-turned-brother-turned-boyfriend. Mondo's known since he saw the little pill bottle in the bathroom and the scars and cuts on his sides. There was no use lying. It was like preparing him for the inevitable, almost; in some sick way. He always liked to be prepared, and Mondo wouldn't be as surprised to see crimson blood on the courtyard of Kiyotaka's beloved school, when he should be gazing into the other's blood-red eyes. 

He almost feels obligated to die on school grounds; like it would imply some greater meaning. School is where he both lived and died, emotionally. He loves school itself - rules, learning, discovery and all that - but he  _hates_  the students. It's a closely guarded secret, really; bundled uncomfortably in his chest, in the emptiness where he's sure his heart should be. He  _hates_  students like Leon and Togami, who think themselves superior. They think that degrading other people will  _amuse_  them,  _get them somewhere in life_. It won't.

He'd like to say that he'd surpass them both; but it's rude, and also not possible. He's going to die in a mass of broken bones with a far more broken smile on his face. 

It's  _that_  thought that puts his mind at ease.

"Nowhere in particular," He answers finally, vaguely, "Just for some air. I wanted to think about things."

"What kinda things?" Mondo asks as he finally takes a seat next to him, concern in his tone.

Kiyotaka doesn't answer, and Mondo keeps a frustratingly close eye on him. 


	2. Control

Usually, Kiyotaka thrives when allowing his hunger to go unsated. He's read all the material, leaflets and blogs; he knows how to punch his stomach  _just right_  to stop the incessant growling, knows to chew celery and ice cubes if it gets too much, and can go at least four days without consuming over a hundred calories. He essentially taught himself how to be anorexic. He can't even remember why anymore, perhaps something to control? Perhaps it was the  _freedom_  he got from avoiding the  _one thing_  no one could, perhaps it was just a cry for attention; who really keeps track of these things?

He should, he usually does, but his memory has started failing him. He writes down the  _important_  things, and none of this is crucial. It just is. He can allow himself to let go of the one tiny detail and focus on the here and now, rather than why or how this came about. 

All he sees in the mirror are sharp,  _neat_  lines; almost as if he were drawn with a pencil and ruler in some stylised manga of Yamada's. It probably would represent some ridiculous character trait; like his ridged moral code, his sharp glare, his unapproachable attitude. Or maybe it's just the stick that everyone says is lodged in his behind. Who knows?

He likes how pronounced his collar bones are, and presses calloused fingertips against them when he needs something to ground him. It's comforting, really. Like how, when he lays down, his stomach is perfectly concave. He grips his hip bones as he starts to drift into troubled sleep, a mantra in his head assuring him that he really is skinny.

Sometimes, however, it isn't enough. Sometimes he bolts out of bed, throwing open the door to the en suit and scraps his knees as he lands  _hard_  in front of the toilet, fingers down his throat before he's even in position. It's an odd feeling; control, freedom and relief somehow all balled into one. There are teeth marks along his knuckles, but they don't last too long, and a burn in his throat. It's satisfying, after all of those attempts when he  _couldn't get it right_ , and just ended up choking and sobbing in disgusting public lavatories.

He'd much rather die than go back to that. Then again, he'd rather die than do a lot of things.


End file.
